


The Light We Make

by miracujess



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Gen, Oneshot, a little light zine, more like cheesemas am i right
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-16
Updated: 2017-01-16
Packaged: 2018-09-17 22:39:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9349388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miracujess/pseuds/miracujess
Summary: The holidays start with a bit of a bump, but the Dupain-Chengs won't let that stand in the way of their Christmas cheer, least of all Marinette.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This was piece for the A Little Light Zine hosted by littleblackchat on tumblr! It was such a privilege to work on!!

Marinette wakes to the crisp smell of gingerbread cookies, and a smile spreads across her face. Without having to check her phone (which is still grasped in her hand from the night before), she already knows the date. It’s the 17th of December. It’s also a Saturday, the first day of the Christmas Vacation, and a week before Christmas Eve. But most importantly, it was the Dupain-Cheng’s annual Christmas Decorating Day.

She flings the sheets off her body (disrupting a slumbering Tikki) and rushes down the stairs, wild-haired and barefoot.

“Maman, Papa,” she sing-songs, “Good morn—“ She stops dead as she notices her parents sitting on the couch, with definite _not_ -smiles on their faces.

“Is something wrong?” Her forehead creases with concern.

Tom Dupain sighs and looks at his daughter, apology in his eyes. “Désolé, Marinette. We can’t decorate today.”

“Why?” she whines, bottom lip sticking out in a pout. Her good mood immediately dissolves.

Sabine Cheng twists in her seat and lays a comforting hand on Marinette’s arm. “We couldn’t find the lights in the cupboard, ma chérie. They must’ve gotten moved around when we renovated downstairs this summer.” Her reassurance does little to soothe Marinette’s disappointment. “We can check tonight after lock up, okay?”

“I guess…” Marinette smiles weakly at her parents, even as her heart falls.

“Okay then. Now why don’t you call Alya and see if she’s free today?”

Marinette glumly nods once and trudges back upstairs as her parents descend back down to the bakery to start their day.

* * *

But, two days later, Marinette sits, sulking, in a café with Alya and Myléne as they jabber on about the movie they just saw. She sighs into her gloved palm for the umpteenth time. The lights are yet to be located, and the bakery looks dull and depressing without the lights gracing its front, especially since it had started lightly snowing that morning. Next to the other buildings on her street, it is basically naked. She glares at the inferior lights winking at her through the window.

“Marinette!” Tikki’s voice comes in an earnest whisper. “You have a text!” Marinette looks down to see the kwami pushing her phone out of her bag. She takes the phone from her and reads the notification.

**Maman:** _Found the lights! They were under the old curtains!_

Marinette practically beams at the phone in her lap. She taps a message out onto the screen.

**Marinette:** _Don’t start without me! On my way home now!_

* * *

The bell over the door tinkles jollily as Marinette bursts into the bakery, startling a customer who was taking out his wallet.

“I’m home!”

Sabine, behind the counter, laughs. “I see you, Marinette. Let me ring this one up and we’ll close up for the day, okay? Your father’s upstairs.”

Marinette runs past the counter and up the stairs, dumping her bag by the door. “Papa!”

“In here, chérie!” Tom stands by a large brown box on the kitchen table. He chuckles at her eager expression. “Want to open it?” he asks his daughter. She nods, moving towards it, and almost reverently, pries open the flaps.

The lights, coiled around themselves, are coated in dust. Relics from Tom’s childhood, they have vintage-styled and oversized bulbs in a multitude of colours. When lit up, they shine bright and proud, and wash both bakery and home in a wonderful spectacle of jewel tones. The lights, paired with the promise of decadent Christmas treats, never fail to bring cheerful customers and tourists to the bakery.

Without another moment’s hesitation, she plunges a hand into the box, ready to begin the long-delayed decorating.

Instead, sharp pain shoots up her arm. “Ouch!” she hisses, yanking her hand back and cradling it to her chest. She stares at the pad of her index finger, where a long cut swells with scarlet.

“Marinette, are you okay?” Tom yelps, grabbing her wrist and inspecting her finger. She winces at the sharp movement, and a bead of blood drips down to one flap of the box. “Come, lets clean the cut.” He leads her to the sink and she washes the finger while he rummages around for a first aid kit. Finding one, he gently applies antiseptic cream and a large plaster to the wound.

“What cut you?” Tom asks between Marinette’s whimpers of pain.

She shrugs. “I don’t know. Maybe glass?”

As her words register, the two look at each other and turn back to the box on the table and peer in. Nestled between lines of wiring are shards of colourful glass from several shattered bulbs, hidden underneath the top layer of unbroken lights.

“Oh, no!” Marinette bemoans as Sabine enters the room. “They’re broken!”

Sabine gasps and goes over to them. “What the matter?”

Marinette explains the condition of the lights, before Sabine clutches Marinette to her chest. “How horrible!” cries Sabine as Tom pats her back comfortingly. “Oh, I am so sorry, Marinette.” Over Sabine’s shoulder, Marinette can see Tikki hovering by the doorway, concern in her eyes.

Marinette gives her a subtle shake of her head and buries her head into her mother’s shirt. “I guess we just have to buy new ones then, huh?” she sighs.

* * *

After an awkward dinner, Marinette sits at her desk, textbook open in front of her, and tries to think about her holiday homework instead of those damned lights. She fails.

“Am I just picking up Chat Noir’s bad luck?” she blurts, throwing her hands up in exasperation. “Is that it?”

Tikki rolls her eyes. “Don’t be silly, Marinette. That’s not how it works.”

Marinette frowns. “Are you sure?”

Tikki sighs and flies around to face Marinette, placing her little hands on her cheeks and staring into her eyes. “Marinette,” she says, voice stern, “what’s wrong?”

“You wouldn’t understand, you’re new here,” Marinette huffs as she turns away, spinning in her chair. “It’s just… Every year, no matter how stressed or lonely I’d be, I could look forward to the Christmas holiday, because it meant I could be with the people I love most. A time where I could just be surrounded by love and joy, and not worry about the year ahead. And Decorating Day would always be the kickoff of the holidays, for as long as I can remember. A day that I just spend with my parents, and we’d just bond and laugh and talk; a day just for the three of us.” Her shoulders slump. “And while I know that things are different now, I can’t help feel that because this year’s Decorating Day was ruined, the whole of next year might be too.”

“Oh, Marinette.” Tikki’s voice takes on a softer tone. “You have to keep positive! Just because one day didn’t go as planned doesn’t mean that every day after that will. Life is unpredictable, but you have your family, your friends, and now Chat Noir and I by your side to help you when things get rough.”

Marinette considers her kwami before laughing lightly. “You’re right,” she admits, “of course.” She turns back to her book “Besides, we’ll go buy new lights; they can’t be all gone — my luck isn’t _that_ bad, right?”

* * *

The Dupain-Cheng family gape incredulously at the bored-looking sales assistant in front of them. It is evening on the day before Christmas Eve, and it is the only time that the entire family has free, with Sabine and Tom caught up in the pre-Christmas rush and Marinette juggling shifts, present shopping, and her secret duties as Ladybug.

“’No more lights’?” Marinette squeaks in alarm. “Are you sure?”

“Um, yeah.” The assistant gives a slight shrug. “It’s the day before Christmas Eve. Everyone’s already done their shopping and decorating.”

“But are you _sure_ -sure?”

“What my daughter means to ask,” Sabine cuts in, voice sweet as sugar, “is if could you please check the stockroom for us?”

“Yeah, whatever.” The assistant walks away, his grumbling about how it was almost the end of his shift loud enough for the trio to hear. In his short absence, they stand silence and wish for a miracle.

At the sound of his reapproaching footsteps on the linoleum, all three perk up with hopeful smiles on their faces. Slung under one arm is a white box, the amiable visage of Santa Claus printed on its side.

Unceremoniously, he hands it to them. “These were the only lights I could find.”

Marinette’s good mood is quick to wither. “Is that… a _shirtless_ Santa?”

Sabine reads the box label. “‘Sexy Shirtless Santa Lights for all your Naughty List needs.’” She looks at the sales assistant in horror. “Why would you even stock this?”

“I don’t know, madame.” He shrugs again, his voice devoid of emotions. “Will you be purchasing this item?”

Tom coughs abruptly into his hand. “I don’t think so, no.” Placing his hands on Marinette’s shoulder, he ushers her towards the exit and gestures for Sabine to follow.

“Have a merry Christmas,” the assistant drones, and the automatic doors shut behind the Dupain-Chengs.

Marinette looks at her parents. “What do we do now?” she asks, even though she knows they don’t have an answer either.

* * *

Marinette doesn’t feel the excitement she normally has on Christmas Eve. Instead, she goes through her shift at the bakery lifelessly, barely registering anything over the regular customers asking where the lights this year are. Tom and Sabine are equally listless. When her shift ends, she trudges back to her room and flops, belly-first, onto the chaise lounge.

“Marinette.” Tikki parks herself on the cushioning by Marinette’s face. “It’s Christmas Eve! Cheer up.”

“No.” The chaise muffles Marinette’s voice. “I’m sad.”

“Well,” Tikki says, “what’re you going to do about it?”

Marinette jerks up to scowl at her kwami. “What do you mean, what am I going to do about…” she trails off as notices her box of discarded fashion projects. A grin stretches across her lips as an idea pops into her head. She meets Tikki’s eyes.

“I know what I’m going to do.”

* * *

“Marinette!” Sabine calls up the stairs, hours later. “It’s time to get ready for church!”

“I know! Just… come here!” Sabine and Tom exchange a look, both noticing that their daughter sounds more cheerful than she was earlier. Suspicious, they climb the stairs together and enter the house.

The curtains are drawn and the room is dark, save for light from half a dozen flashlights scattered around the room and pointing towards the middle of it, which stands empty as all the furniture has been pushed to the sides. Marinette, who is wearing a remarkable sweater covered in hastily glued on glitter, rhinestones and sequins, stands in the dark by the stairs. By her feet are two gift bags.

“Chérie, what is this?” Tom asks, befuddled.

“Close your eyes; you’ll see,” she says, tone cryptic.

Warily, her parents do so, hearing Marinette shuffle around, and only open them when she calls, “Okay, you can look!”

They open their eyes. Marinette stands proudly in the middle of room, the light of the flashlights bouncing off her sweater, and causing millions of slivers and fragments of colourful light to dance around the room. She spins once, the brilliance following her in a dizzying lightshow, and then giggles at their speechlessness.

“I thought that if we couldn’t put our old lights up,” she explains, “then maybe we could be our own lights this year. Check inside the bags.”

Her parents’ faces split into smiles as they dig into the giftbags and find old sweaters upgraded with sparkles. At their daughter’s insistence, they pull the sweaters on and join her in the center of the room. The light that was previously reflected is now intensified threefold, and the family is left in awe at the miniature stars and supernovas covering their living room. They become the center of their own galaxy, and, surrounded by the lights they made, Marinette hugs the two most important people in her life.

 


End file.
